Mental Repairs
by not-all-foxes
Summary: Something happened to Mike at Freddy Fazbear's 15 years ago. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, he believes the place has something to do with his problems. Turns out, he's not alone. Mike/Foxy stuffs. Rated T for some violent themes during the later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes:

Well, this is my first serious attempt in a fanfic ever. Feedback is greatly appreciated! English is not my first language and any tips and suggestions for improvements are definetly welcome. :)

Inspired partially by Stripedblur's wonderful "Five Nights with Foxy" and Rebornica on tumblr, whose headcanons inspired mine.

General:

1) Will get violent..ish during the final chapters. Gotta earn that happy ending!

2) This will mostly be about Mike and Foxy.

3) I own nothing.

That's about it. Enjoy!

The rusty key slid to the hole suprisingly smoothly, and with a satisfying click, the heavy door swings open slowly. The overbearing stench of grease didn't come as a suprise to Mike. It was an old pizzeria. On the wall right across the door was the control panel of an alarm system, but the boss had told it's not in use anymore. He had also advised Mike not to use the front door at night, for whatever reason. Mike stepped inside and found himself in a dark, filthy hallway, full of paper streamers and various kitchen appliances. The hallway led to the main dining hall – the office, where Mike's duties were to take place, seemed to be along the way.

Mike found a light switch, and flipped it on and off a few times, to no awail. The darkness and the lack of general upkeep made him a bit squeamish, but it'd be best for his mental state to get to know the surroundings anyway. Luckily he had a flashlight with him. He turned it on and walked over to the main dining hall.

There they were, the animatronics. A bear, a bunny and a chicken, with their big, buggy eyes and crude, bulky joints, standing on that little stage of theirs. His breath cut short. Something in them made him very apprehensive. Curious, as he remembers enjoying the place as a child. He shrugged the thought off, thinking that he's messed up in the head anyways. Not like it'd the biggest of his problems. He studied them carefully from the other side of the room. Time had definetly taken a toll on them, too - they were discolored and dusty. The eyes still had that strange glow he remembers them having, though. The moving shadows behind the animatronics caused by the flashlight started to distress Mike too much, so he decided to retreat to the office he's supposed to be. But he happened to glance at the opposite corner at the room, where seemed to be a smaller stage, covered in curtains. Something rolled in his stomach, he had to leave the room. With a quick pace he walked over to the office, shivering.

The office had lights, at least. Mike could breathe normally again. There indeed was something in this place that has made him return here. Mike sat silently for a while, gathering his thoughts. If he wanted to know what exactly haunted him in this place, he cannot snap this quickly. He started to inspect his surroundings, to ground himself back to reality, he thought. It was a small, dimly lit room, full of cobwebs and litter. On front of his chair was a work desk with an array of monitors, the static buzz of which Mike found very comforting. On the desk there was an old telephone, with a note on top - "For the new guard!", it read. Mike quickly realized the previous guard had recorded him a message, and pressed play.

Mike didn't sing up for this. Oh, hell no. They move?! They're murderous!? His disappearance wouldn't be brought up to the authorities until the carpets had been washed?! Mike would have left the place already, if only he wasn't paralyzed from fear. His attention was completely at the monitors. He kept switching through the channels in a furious frenzy, both annoyed and relieved that nothing hadn't moved yet. He knew that using the cameras so often would drain the apparently limited power, but he couldn't help it. The stress was starting to get to him, he could feel it.

The buzz of the monitors seemed to start to resonate in his head. "Not now, please, not now.." he wailed quietly. His hand kept zapping through the channels as if on an autopilot. He caught a glimpse of a little girl running. Not now, not now, not now. He hit himself in the head. She doesn't exist. He cannot be seeing things at a place like this. The girl kept appearing at the feed, running through the rooms. Mike couldn't take it anymore. He had gone on without hallucinations for so long. He could be institutionalized again. In the spur of the moment, he bangs his head on the table with considerable force.

Mike woke up. He could tell his forehead was bleeding. Or had been bleeding – it was 3:36 already. But that wasn't important, he sprung up instantly to check the cameras again. He quickly zapped through them. The hallucinations seemed to have stopped for now, no girl in sight. Mike relaxed a bit, and took a long breath. Then the thought hit him – oh. There were murderous animatronics after him. It didn't take long for him to decide to close both doors, using the buttons on the walls. He collected himself again, and started looking through the cameras again. No wonder he missed them, the feeds were really dark. The bear was at it's place. That's good. The chicken could be seen at the corner of the dining hall. Mike's stomach rolled. That's not good. The bunny was visible in the feed named "backstage". It was looking at the camera. His stomach rolled some more. At least it was far away. He then noticed the drainage of power using the doors was causing, so he decided to open them. No-one was too close, luckily. He relaxed a bit. If they wanted to get him, they probably would have, seeing he had been unconscious over 3 hours with the doors open.

Just as he finished that thought, he heard a strange, metallic thumping noise from the left side hallway, getting closer and closer. Mike tensed up. Goddamnit, shouldn't have opened the door. He was too scared to move now. The sounds are getting closer and closer. He saw something moving from the corner of his eye. He was starting to get limp from fear. He saw two glowing lights pass the dark window. His heart is pounding painfully. Then, it appears on the doorway.

A red fox, with broken, tattered fur, a hanging jaw with sharp teeth and an eyepatch and a hook on his right arm. And those glowing eyes he had seen moments before. The creature took a few steps further, hanging it's upper body creepily low. It's head tilted and jaw snapped. Mike knew this was the end.

Just as the creature was to take another step, something snapped in Mike. He saw the little girl again, running out of the right side door. As a tic, he hit himself in the head again. Not now! The creature was taken back aswell. He directed his attention at the creature again. It was stumbling backwards, the light dimmening in his eyes. It held his head like it hurt. Slowly it lifted it's head and looked at Mike, starting to shake it's head in disbelief. Suddenly, as if realizing something, it screeched and jumped backwards, clearly in terror. The creature stumbled and fell outside the office, and Mike knew this was his chance, the door outside would be just a few steps away in the hallway. He quickly but quietly stood up from the chair and was just about the leave the office when he heard someone say "Don't.. I didn't.." Mike knew it was the creature. He pulled to a halt and turned around. It didn't really speak. Mike was hearing things.

"..I-I beg your pardon..?", Mike asked, out of breath.

The fox literally straightened himself, looking at Mike. "I'm sorry, but.. did I hurt you.. or.."

"Not that I noticed.."

"I didn't do that, did I?", the fox interrupted. Mike didn't realize at first what he meant, but the fox pointed at his forehead and he remembered his wound from banging his head on the table.

Crazily enough, Mike actually chuckled. "No, that was self-inflicted." Then he got serious again. He was talking to a animatronic fox.

The fox looked slightly relieved. "Oh, good.. no, it's not good you're hurt, but it could've been worse..", he stammered. He was holding his hands behind his back and looking down at the floor. He had the most unusual voice. Soft and deep with a metallic rasp. Almotst like an old radio.

Mike was still collecting his thoughts. He looked at the fox, realizing he remembers it. It's the animatronic from Pirate's Cove. Mike felt uneasy thinking about the place, but he too many things on his mind right now. The fox was clearly not in use. His left hand was bare with the "robot" hand beneath visible. Mike could see wires and crossbeams through the holes in it's chest and arms.

"So.. what's the deal here? Are you going to kill me or..?" Mike asked carefully. The

"Oh, not like this, no! Sometimes something gets to our head.. I can't really explain it, but something zapped me out of it.. just in time, I guess." The fox says somberly.

"Well, something gets to my head aswell, so I guess I understand. By the way, your ear is missing", Mike notes and points to a loose foxes' ear at the floor. It must have come loose when the fox fell.

"O-oh, thank you.." the fox stuttered and tried to jam it back in, with no success.

"Here, lemme help.." Mike offers and takes a step forward, but the fox winces and turns around. "Oh, I didn't mean to.."

The fox hesitates for a while, then slowly turns towards Mike and very carefully hands him the ear, sliding it off it's hand. He quickly pulls it's hands.. or hand and the hook, away and turns around, holding his arms as far away as possible from Mike.

"May I..?" Mike asks and the fox nods in agreement. Mike slides the ear back to it's slot, and sensing it doesn't want him to be close to it's hands, steps a few steps back and says it's done.

The fox turns around and touches the ear and mutters "Thank you.."

"You're welcome."

They share an awkward stare.

"Hey, are the other animatronics like you? Do I have to fear for my life? I mean, as much as I did before?" Mike blurts, remembering the others.

"I couldn't say.. they have been here. Well, at least I remember hearing someone coming towards this place earlier in the night, but you seem to be alive and well so far. That.. thing that takes over us has a quiet night, it seems" the fox says, again holding his arms behind his back.

"Oh. Maybe it recognizes a fellow nutcase or something.." Mike says awkwardly. The fox looks at him and smiles. Mike was ashamed to find that his heart just skipped a beat. That was the cutest thing he had seen in years. Poor thing. He chuckles a bit.

"W-what's wrong..?" the fox asks quickly.

"Oh, nothing. You're cute, that's all."

The fox is clearly embarrased. "You mean that?", he asks doubtfully.

"Yes. That's even cuter, actually."

The fox turns his head away and smiles coyly. Suddenly it turns and looks back at Mike. "Hey, do you need any help with that forehead, or-"

Mike had forgotten the wound on his head again. He touched it and noted the blood had dried. "Oh, if you have anything.." The fox disappeared quickly through the doorway. Mike could hear it rumbling through a cabinet or something. It came back quickly, holding a bottle of what looked like eye wash and a bunch of tissues. "This is all I could find, but it should do", the fox said and again, carefully slid the items to Mike's open palms. Mike thanked and doused a tissue in the solution and started rinsing the blood off. Bloody saline solution soon started dripping all over his face and clothes. "Here, let me help-" the fox stammered and wrapped lots of tissue over his hand and started wiping the mess off. He quickly stops. "Sorry, I shouldn't have touched you without.."

"No, no, no, it's alright!" Mike said and the fox hesitantly continued to wipe the mess off of him. Mike felt the foxes' finger touch his forehead, and the fox immediately pulled his hand back. It clearly didn't like touching Mike, but continued nevertheless. Mike was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, as he didn't want to distress the fox. But he couldn't deny he liked being so close to him. Just as he was to say he could finish it off, the fox stopped and looked intensly at his forehead. Ah, the old scar, Mike knew. It is quite graphic even now. "It's just an old scar, it's been there for a while".

The fox snapped out from his thoughts and looked embarrased. "S-sorry, it just.."

"Oh, it's nothing.", Mike said and wiped off the remaining mess off his face. The fox was close, looking at his eyes. It's eyes were glowing, but in a soft, dim yellow tone. He was cute. No, he was handsome. Mike could feel he was starting to blush, directed his yes at the floor and chuckled again. He was far from a normal person, but feeling something for an animatronic fox? He lifted his head up again. The fox was now leaning to the doorframe, with that coy smile of his again.

"Well.. we haven't been properly introduced yet.. so.. what is your name?" Mike asked.

"Foxy, Foxy the pirate.. and you?"

Mike stood up. "Mike. Mike the security guard, I guess", he said, offering intentionally his left hand to shake, he had thought of his hook beforehand. He also wanted to see how the fox would react – and as he imagined, he stiffened up.

To his suprise, after a beat, the fox slowly offered his left hand. It was the most limp handshake Mike could imagine, but the warmth of his hand took Mike by suprise. It made him smile and and raised his hand closer to see it. It was a truly unusual sensation. Out of spur of the moment, he raised the foxes' hand and held it to his cheek. He quickly realized it was a strange move and put the hand down and raised his eyes to see his reaction. The fox was truly stunned. It took his hand back and looked at Mike – and left the room.

Foxy was back at the cove. He could hear the guard's chair squeak ocasionally, always alarming him. The others might get to him. Then again, something had gotten him out of _it's _influence. _It_ always takes over when it senses it has the chance to kill. And if they were to get Mike, they would have already. They were quiet, as they always are when not under _it's _control.

The sight of the red light of the security camera shining through the curtains caught Foxy's attention. Mike was watching. Foxy had to leave the office. He felt bad about it, but the situation had gotten too strange. First he had called him cute, and then he had willingly touched his hand, and even held it to his face. Foxy hates his hands. Well, his hand and the hook. Out of all his flaws, he hated his hands the most. They were a constant reminder of his brokenness. And weakness. He was weak for letting _it_ take over. That's what the other animatronics told him. It's because of him the place was going to be run down.

Another squeak. Foxy stiffened up a bit. Not a sign from anybody. He liked Mike. But he just couldn't see what Mike saw in him. Mike had no reason to be kind to him. His chest ached. He wanted to go back, but it was all too strange. And what if he hurt Mike? He couldn't never forgive himself. But he liked Mike. He wanted to see him.

Steps. Foxy sees shadows coming from the stage's direction. The others were returning to their places. The night was coming to it's end.

And Mike had evoked memories from the past. Distant and vague, but still definitive. Almost in reach, but too far away. It was maddening.

An alarm rang and snapped Foxy out of his thoughts. Mike's shift has ended. No. He will never see Mike again. Guards rarely stay after the first night. Foxy is starting to panic. He cannot leave the cove at this hour, the cleaners will be here any minute.

He can hear Mike rumbling his stuff together. No!

"Mike!", he screams. The rumbling stops, and the red light of the camera blinks.

Steps. _He's coming. _

"Is it safe for me to come?", Mike shouts, seemingly in the hallway.

"Yes, it's after 6!", Foxy shouts back.

A shadow appears on the curtain. Foxy sees his hand going through the curtains, looking for the opening, and with a bit of trouble, Mike peeks into the cove.

"Is something wrong? Did you-", Mike whispers.

"A-are.. you coming back?" Foxy blurts.

Mike smiles. "See you tomorrow", he says and disappears.

Foxy slowly retreats further to his chamber. He watched the shadow go back to the hallway. He was relieved, yet anxious. He'd see Mike again!

He hears the door close. The pizzeria was silent once again. But something was wrong. Foxy's relief didn't last long._ It_ was coming, and it was furious. It shouldn't, it's after 6 AM. Foxy tries to resist, but _it's_ too strong. In the final seconds of his consciousness, he hears the cleaners coming. Suddenly everything snaps to darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Sorry about the delays – exam weeks, surgeries and illnesses have gotten to the way. It's quite long, hope that makes it up for it. ;)

As FNAF 2 is out now, I feel like I should address that this fic is about FNAF 1. I could have rewritten parts of this to accommodate the new game, it being a prequel and all, but I felt it wouldn't add anything worthwhile to the story as a whole, so continuing where we started.

–-

Mike is lying in his bed. What had happened earlier in the day felt all the more surreal from home, from the context of the real world. The bright, awake real world, which he had to block from entering his room by black trash bags taped over the windows. Mike hadn't really considered the practical problems of working a night shift, but necessity is the mother of invention. Scented bags, too. Luxurious.

The girl had appeared again. Mike had to take his crazy pills. He knew they didn't work, but they at least gave him some feeling of control. Especially now, as he couldn't tell if what he had seen at work was real or not. He did touch the fox, didn't he? Yes, he did. His hallucinations have only been visual so far.

What does that prove? Maybe he's just getting crazier, always a possibility. The pills are starting to take effect. Good, maybe he could get some sleep. He was definetly tired enough, but too much had happened. The buzz in his head was starting to dwindle.

Just as he was starting to relax and his mind started to drift away from his worries, his phone started ringing. Damnit. And it had to be boss. Just great.

"Hello?"

"Ooh, hello! Just thought to give you a call.. uh.. we're opening in an hour, and uh.. the animatronics acted up this morning, had a bit of an accident with one of the cleaners.. and there was blood on your desk, thought to give you a call if you're alright.."

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know how the damn things are.. they shouldn't move after 6 AM, but today something got to them.."

Oh right. All the bastard wanted to know was that they've found the all body parts. A disembodied head in a toilet bowl wouldn't be good for business. Mike was starting to get irritated. Might as well have some fun with him.

"Actually, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Ummm.. the animatronics? They move.. and.. and.. you know?"

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Oh, oh, oh.. yes, just busy with work, that's all!"

A beat.

"So.. I take it you're coming back tonight?"

Mike knew he would ask. He didn't even bother to get mad about it.

"Yes, of course."

"Good! Talk to you later – bye!"

Mike tossed the phone away. He didn't know what to make of this. Had Foxy tried to lure him out? Had he been minutes away from death? No, didn't seem likely, even the boss had said they shouldn't do anything after 6 AM.

Mike was too dizzy to think straight anymore. Maybe it's just that the world is trying it's best to dispose of Mike Schmidt again.

Sometimes he felt like doing the world a favor.

Alarm rings. Head is slightly dizzy, but nothing too bad, it'd be gone by the time he had to drive to work. Oh, work. Having rested, the events felt even more surreal. Thinking of going back there makes Mike's stomach turn. Why would he return there? Then again, the girl had appeared, and the place did raise memories. And he had promised he'd go back. To an animatronic fox..? No, let's not go there.

Well, he assumedly has a sentient being waiting for him, at any rate. This calls for a shower.

Mike is drying off in front of the mirror. He really had busted his head, the scar looked even worse than before. He thought he might want to start wearing a helmet at work, if the girl's appearances become more frequent. Over the years, he had developed a habit of hurting himself whenever she appeared. The worst thing was that it actually worked. It worked better than the pills and the therapy. He could scream, he could cry, but only banging himself in the head or stabbing a pencil to his thigh would make the hallucinations stop.

How long has this been going on? Almost for 20 years now. Not that he'd kick the habit anytime soon. Why was he going back there again?

Something in him really didn't want to go back. But the fox was waiting for him. But it was only reasonable he wouldn't want to go back. But he'd feel bad for not going. But he'd be killed, that's exactly what the world would do to him.

Oh, screw it, he's going. He has to take control of his life. Though at the moment, it'd probably mean losing control for the time being. Maybe it's worth it in the end. Maybe.

Mike pulls to an halt behind the pizzeria. He hesitantly checks his watch. Quater to 12 AM. He steps out of his car, no use prolonging the anxiety. He'd be fine.

He slides the key into the slot and lets the heavy door open itself. The same putrid stench of grease greeted him, as he had expected, but the smell was cut by a sharp odor. Chloride, no doubt. Well, that's encouraging. He peeks inside, checking no-one's in the hallway, and steps into the dark pizzeria.

He tries to close the door behind him as quietly as possible, but it won't close without a good pull. The door slams shut, and the noise makes Mike jump. Scared, he hastily digs his flashlight from his bag, turns it on and checks the hallway again. Nothing, still, but the sudden raise in the upkeep was definetly suprising. The floors and wall tiles were shining! All the clutter and garbage was gone, and the place seemed a little bit less threatening. A little bit.

He won't be going to the dining hall this time, no way. He steps right into the office, and it too was clean. The smell of chloride reminded him of a hospital. Then he realized, the poor things must've turned the place upside down that morning, with the accident and the blood on the table, which there was no sign of whatsoever. Well, Mike's not complaining. He sits on his chair and turns on the monitors.

Everyone's at their place – well, for now, it's not 12 AM yet. Though it has become apparent that the time seems to be a mere formality for the animatronics. He switches over to the Pirate's Cove. Oh, right, the fox. He leaves the feed on and takes on a more comfortable posture. "Sorry! - Out of order", reads the sign over the curtains at the cove. Mike His attention switches to the phone on the desk – the previous guard had mentioned he has recorded messages for him for Mike's first few days on the job. Mike presses the play button. Nothing. They must've deleted whatever the guard had recorded. Isn't that helpful.

In the corner of his eye, he sees the curtains open slowly. Foxy appears from behind the curtains. He's looking straight at the camera, questioningly. Mike switches between the feeds a couple of times to signal that he is indeed here. The fox nods his head and steps out of the stage. Mike pushes himself to the opposite side of the room, and he sees Foxy approaching. He was both happy and hesistant to see him.

"So, you did come back.", the fox says as he appears in the doorway. "I couldn't believe my ears when I heard."

"What?"

"I heard the owner call you earlier this morning. No-one in their right mind would've returned here after what he told you. The boss couldn't believe it either. Called you crazy".

Mike tries What happened?"

"I don't actually know. When you left.. uh.. it took over. I think one of the cleaners came here alone without the others. I don't think the person died, we usually close for a few days after that happens. That's why they called you, with the blood stains on the desk they couldn't tell if you were alive or not. They turned this place upside down."

He spoke of this in an disturbingly casual manner. As if it was a common occurence, the animatronics killing people. Foxy noticed Mike's discomfort.

"I'm sorry.. it's just what happens around here."

"Were you a part of it?", Mike blurts and instantly regrets asking that – though that was what had been going on his head for the past day.

"No.. I don't think I was. Well, I didn't smell of fabric refresher when I woke up, usually that's a dead giveaway."

Mike couldn't help but laugh. Foxy leaned to the doorframe, holding back laughter too. The mood easened up a lot.

"I'm sorry, the past 24 hours have just been.. interesting." Mike says and looks at the fox.

"No need to apologize at all. I still have no idea why you came back, though."

"I might have some unfinished business with this place.. I don't know what, exactly. I know this sounds weird, but I know there's something in here that I have to deal with.. and because you asked."

Foxy lifts his head and looks at Mike, almost like not believing what he had just heard.

"Because I asked?"

"Yes."

"You know, the reason I left last night was because I didn't really know what to do or say. Not that I'd know any better now."

"I think we find this an equally strange situation, don't you worry" Mike says.

Foxy steps into the office and sits on the floor, next to Mike. After a beat, Mike stands up, pushes the chair away and sits next down next to him. The fox was clearly getting more and more comfortable being around Mike.

"So.. you've been here as a child?"

Mike nods.

"Do you remember any of us?"

"Yes, all four of you-"

"Even me?", Foxy blurts.

"Yes, why?"

"You must have noticed the sign over at the cove by now.."

"Oh, right. Yes, I remember all of you."

"Do.. you remember what I did?"

"Yeah.. you would appear every now and then, trying to recruit us as pirates. You had me sold always, you were my favourite. Maybe because you sang the least."

Foxy laughs.

"And you used to talk like a pirate."

"Don't you even ask me to try."

"Well, now you got me interested".

"Arr, like 'tis? Oh, I haven't had practise in many years, matey! I was always bad at 'tis. Me ship be dismantled, I be no scurvy pirate no more! Damn ta hell!" Foxy bellows.

Mike starts to laugh.

"I don't think you were so foulmouthed.. You also used to walk around and play with us. My mother always told me that you were just people in costumes"

"Maybe we were.. but thank you. It's good to be reminded from time to time. Memories are important here, you know? It's the only thing we have here. Memories keep us on a map. We don't get much.. anything here, really." Foxy says, smiling.

"What do you do, then?"

"I read a lot of newspapers. I steal some from the counter. I had a handheld radio for many years but the cleaners swept it away. We had a television at the dining hall, but the kids broke it. We have to get some incentive to keep our minds sharp.. now that we can't walk during the day. That was the only way we could get any interaction with people."

"What happened?"

The fox clearly didn't like the question. "That's a long story. Maybe another time."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, it's alright. It's my fault anyways. Well, the entire situation is my fault. You haven't met the others yet, have you?"

"No, not yet."

"I'm afraid there's nothing much to meet, really. The others used to be like me, but.. they've gone dull. After we couldn't walk during the day, they became passive. They didn't want to keep up with anything anymore. They forgot themselves. Now, after so many years, not much is left anymore, it seems."

"Why haven't you left, then?"

"We've tried.. Well, I've tried. They wouldn't be looking after me if I went missing. We're the property of Fazbear Entertainment Inc, after all. _It _doesn't let us.. the moment we reach the door, it puts us back in our place. Also, being a walking and talking animatronic fox would stir some curiosity, to say the least. And the others are in no condition to be anywhere else, really. As strange as it may sound, at least this place is safe for us. It's going to be an experience when they shut this place down.."

Foxy's looking at the floor, deep in thought.

"Sorry for bothering you with my problems.. and thank you for everything so far."

"What for?"

"For being a sweetheart, for example."

Mike's face started burning. Embarrased, he too started looking at the floor. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but smile.

"Stop it."

"Let me see – ooh, I forgot! People blush! Foxy teased.

"Just stop it." Mike tried to sound serious but failed.

"That's cute, though!"

Mike knew all attempts to be serious would make him look even more ridiculous, so he continued to stare at the floor. He could see the fox watching him at the corner of his eye. He quickly glanced at the fox and leaned over him.

Mike was suprised by the warmth again. His cheek is resting on Foxy's shoulder. The warm faux fur was eerily lifelike. Mike noticed his chest moving up and down, as if he was breathing. Quiet creaking sound could be heard when his chest expanded and compressed. But through the tears and holes in the suit, it was evident he had no lungs, or anything that could possibly cause such an effect. His chest was hollow.

He raises his eyes to look at the fox's face. His smiling lips had the slightest twitch to them. In fact, so did everything.

Could he feel? He quickly glanced upwards. Foxy had turned his head over to the side. Mike quitely raises hand and touches his arm. He tensed a bit. He does feel. Mike slowly slides his hand down Foxy's arm, down to the bare robotic hand. It was quite the contrast to his otherwise friendly looks – spiky, sharp and metallic, with black ball joints between the segments of his elongated fingers. He grabs it. No reaction this time, much to Mike's suprise. Actually, he holds on to Mike's hand, too. He raises it up and examines it, going through the tendons and joints of Mike's hand gently by his thumb.

Mike was still leaning on him. His eyes were starting to feel heavy. The creaking of Foxy's chest, the warmth and being close to at least _something_ was comforting. A feeling of safety he hadn't felt in years. He could fall asleep.

"Hey! No sleeping on the job!"

Oh shit. Someone's here. He quickly stands up and realizes that the fox is still in the office. How could he explain that? "No, of course not, it just walked here by itself!" His head is spinning, trying to locate the intruder.

Laughs.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it.. but you really shouldn't be sleeping around here."

Mike was almost offended at such treatment, but the fact that Foxy was comfortable enough with him to do that made him relax. He contented himself to shaking his head and clumsily reaching for the chair to sit on.

"It's okay.. I really shouldn't."

"I thought if you wanted me to show you around? I think it's safe."

"Sounds good." Mike grabs his flashlight.

"I'd know how to get the lights back on, they switch off the breaker for every room except the office and kitchen for night – but the boss checks the electricity meter every morning, he'd blame you.."

They step into the main dining hall. Mike points the light to the stage. Only the bear is there. It's looking. He quickly points the light somewhere else.

"Where's the others?" Mike asks, barely hiding his fear.

"Who knows.. probably just standing around somewhere. That's what they do best."

Foxy walks straight to the stage. Mike reluctantly follows.

"Hi, Freddy. Whatcha doing?"

The bear just glares at the two of them. Like a child too young to speak but old enough to be shy.

"This is Mike. He's the new security guard."

Glares. "Fox..yh." The tone of the voice made Mike's skin crawl. If Foxy's voice was like an old radio, Freddy's was a nail on a chalkboard.

"Yes? Go on!" Foxy encouraged.

The bear turns around, seemingly not paying any attention to the two of them anymore. Foxy sighs.

"Like I said, they _used_ to be like me.. I try though. Try get things back how they were."

Foxy walks over to the counter, right next to the stage. He quickly goes through a stack of newspapers laying next to a cash register. "No new ones today..?"

Mike turns around and sees the bear is back glaring at them. Or actually, glaring at Mike. There's something very determinent in the stare. Mike steps backwards, facing the bear. It's eyes are starting to glow. His head tilts, the hands go limp.

He eventually hit the wall, "Mike.. go!" He turns his head to see Foxy. Only two glowing eyes greeted him. He quickly glanced to his left. A door. He slowly reached for the handle, grabbed it, and in a second, he was in. He slams the door shut.

Total darkness, except the ambient hum of what sounded like refridgerators. He must be in the kitchen. He daren't to turn around, though. Only now the realization of danger was getting to him. He instinctively pulls the door inward. This would be the end. They'd gnaw their way in. He'd join the band.

A bang and a clank. Mike turns around. Screech. He was thrown on the floor, hitting a garbage can at the impact. He looks up and sees two glowing eyes get nearer and nearer. A beak with two snapping sets of teeth. It lunges upon Mike, grabs his arms, and suddenly collapses on him.

The little girl runs past them.

Mike winces and hits the back side of his head to the floor. It hurt. Good.

"Mike?! MIKE!?"

Foxy plunges into the room. "MIKE!" He grabs onto the thing that fell over Mike and pushes it over. Mike sees it's the chicken. It's eyes are spinning.

"Are you okay? Did she..? Oh, I'm sorry Mike, I screw up everything.." Foxy stutters and clumsily helps Mike to sit back up.

"No, no, no, I'm alright.."

The chicken groans. Foxy stands up and goes to help.

Mike was more shocked at the reappearance of the girl, rather than being almost killed, despite expecting her to appear. But here it shows a pattern, something that never had happened before. The eyes start to glow, the animatronics go weird, she appears and then everything gets back to normal. Well, "normal." But now it seems what happens in his head have an effect on what happens outside his head. Or does it? Is he losing his mind?

Is it _all_ in his head?

Foxy and the chicken are gone. Mike's head hurts. This is all just in his head. No talking foxes, no nothing. Just a derelict children's pizzeria. All just a very elaborate hallucination.

Foxy steps in.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes.. just confused."

"Well, me too.. how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get _it _away from us. It must be you."

"So you felt it too?"

Foxy crouches down. "What do you mean? Isn't that obvious?"

"It's just that.. I see things. And I've been seeing this.. thing for years. I've been told it doesn't exist. I have to take medication to keep it away.. and it appeared before we first met.. and it appeared when the chicken attacked.."

"I see.." Foxy says, without the slightest hint of disbelief or astonishment.

"You believe me? You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No, of course not!"

Mike couldn't help it. He sprung up and hugged him. He needed that. He needed hearing that he's not crazy. He couldn't help but cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess.." Mike sobs, embarrased.

"There, there.. just try not to get me all rusty.." Foxy laughed. "I don't know if this is the right time to ask this, but.. could you stay around when the cleaners come..?"

"Of course, it's not a problem at all!"

Now it's Foxy hugging him.

"What a therapy session this turned out to be.." Mike sniffles and chuckles. They separate, both sitting on the floor of a dark kitchen, among garbage and fallen kettles and pots. What a setting for such a scene.

"We have to clean this mess.. well, we could blame Chica, but that's not nice, is that?" Foxy asks and grins.

Mike sighs of relief. The kitchen is done, after 30 minutes or so. They could've let the cleaners clean it in the morning, but Foxy said it's best to pretend nothing unusual has happened.

They step out of the kitchen. Mike looks over at the stage. All three of them are there – Foxy had brought them back there, just to be safe.

"I could show you "my place", if you'd like?"

"Sure." They approach the curtains. The same feeling of uneasiness took over when he saw it in the first night.

"Sorry – out of order!". Foxy swings open the curtain, revealing a large stage area hidden behind. Foxy steps in, and holds the curtain for Mike to step in. Mike swallows his fear and takes a step forward.

It's a suprisingly large area – filled with cardboard boxes and stairs and tables stacked atop eachother. Only hints that it was ever used as a stage were the faded tropical paintings in the walls and the fake palm tree leaves and stage lights hanging from the ceiling. Despite all the clutter, it's almost as spacious as his bedroom. Well, it had to house that prop pirate ship Mike remembers – there's a visible line on the stage where it had been. Very different from how he remembers the place being. Poor Foxy hadn't been in use for years.

Foxy walks over to another, small curtain in the right side of a stage – within was a small control booth, like the one from the Wizard of Oz.

"Welcome to my humble home.. and that booth is where I sleep. Occasionally the kids peek in through the curtains, it's nice to have some privacy in there.."

"My cove is now a warehouse, as you can see. You remember my ship? They took it down, damn them, to make space for all of this junk. Lucky they didn't throw me in the dump with it."

He sits down, carefully inserts the tip of his hook to a hole in the floor and lifts the panel off. Mike walks over and sees that it's full of.. things. Books, read so many times they have no covers anymore, loose pages from magazines, writings in crudely binded notebooks and pens.

"And this is my entertainment system.."

He takes one of his books. He flips quickly through it.

"I think this was called.. "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat".. yeah, that's it.. Haven't found a new book in here in a while now."

He goes through the pile, searching for something.

"I think there's a dictionary somewhere.. I've been so bored in here I've read it through a couple of times. Those sheets are my diary, I kept it for 10 years. Needless to say, it got quite redundant after a while."

"And these are the drawings and pictures of me I managed to snag myself when they decided to "discontinue" me.." he says and lifts a loose pile of papers.

"Oh, look, here's what I was looking for.. one made by "Mike"!" Foxy says and hands over the drawing. "Could it be yours?"

"It's certainly ugly enough." And it was. If he had to guess what Foxy was based on the picture, "FOXE" was a barren brown tree with a scythe growing out of it. Signed "MIKE OCTOBR 2 1987"

"I couldn't say.." Mike says and hands back the drawing. Foxy looks at it, smiles and puts it back on the pile of drawings, drops the pile back to the hole and closes the floor panel.

"I'm a bit paranoid that they'll find that some day.. Well, when they bulldoze the building, they'll eventually find them. Must get rid of them before that, I guess."

Mike was to ask what Foxy was going to do, but then he remembered the earlier conversation, and had an idea.

"Foxy.. you told me that I get _it _off of you? And that he doesn't let you leave?"

"Yes?"

"What if I'm around? Would it get hold of you then?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. But I see where you are going.. the problem is.. where would we go?"

Mike thought the answer was obvious. "To my place!"

"Mike.. I really appreciate this, but.. the others."

"I'll take all of you with me!"

"It's not that simple!"

Mike was suprised at the response. Foxy clearly noticed this.

"I'm sorry.. but things just aren't that simple.. we're not just living animatronics.."

Mike was starting to feel bad. What did he mean? Why wouldn't he want to leave?

"I still love you, though."

"What?"

"I love you."

Suddenly the muzzle of an animatronic fox is right in front of Mike's face. Their lips touch. Mike was surprised at this turn of events, but didn't complain. Kissing. Foxy's left arm was around Mike, holding him tight.

"I'll think of something, Mike.. we'll get out of here, somehow.." Foxy whispers.

"Thank you, Foxy.."

"No, thank you.. you should be running out of this place screaming, yet here you are.."

Alarm starts beeping in the office. 6 AM. Foxy lets go of Mike and stands up.

"So, did you want to stay till the cleaners come?"

"Yeah.. what is it about 6 AM, though? I mean, _it_ and that time?"

"It's just when people start coming in and out. _It's_ not stupid, it knows well enough that if it gets too rowdy, people notice, and that's not what he wants. He might be a bit angry about not getting you, hence last night's temper tantrum. Time is just a formality for him."

"Him..? You mean _it's_ a.."

"It's a person, too.. but I think that's the cleaners' car – you should go. I'll explain later. Just say that you thought to keep watch until there's more people inside. They'll understand."

Mike hears the car's doors close. "Sure – see you tomorrow!"

"Bye, go!" Foxy whispers.

Mike swings the curtains off his way and hastily jumps out of the cove. He quickly goes back to his office, not wanting to catch any attention, and sits his chair, looking like he was working. The door next to the office in the hallway opens slowly. One of the cleaners, a feeble, gray old lady, steps inside, looks right and left twice, steps in, looks at the office – and screams.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-", Mike stutters.

"Gave me a goddamn heart attack!"

"I'm sorry! I thought to stay until-"

"Grizelda, are you alright?" someone asks outside.

"Get out of here! Yes, I'm alright! This bastard right here.."

"I'm sorry, I'll just go!" Mike stammers, grabs his bag and walks out, passing the lady.

"Tried to scare me, goddamn.."

"I'm SORRY!" Mike says. The other two cleaners give Mike a glare and walk in. The heavy door slams behind them. Not the kind of reception Mike expected.

Mike stands outside the building for a minute or two, sees the lights coming on – and not hearing the sound of people getting murdered, decides it's safe to leave.

What has he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Authors notes: Thought to keep this one short, as the plot thickens quite a bit on this chapter..

Scream. What, how?

"..I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Gave me a goddamn heart attack!"

Oh, it's just Grizelda. Foxy had no idea she had the pipes for that. That old hag. Smokes inside the pizzeria, as if it didn't smell bad enough already.

Some more yelling. Called Mike a bastard. Huh?

"..I'm SORRY!"

The door slams. Only distant chatter and an occasional swear word from Grizelda could be heard. Good old Grandma Grittie. A true trooper she was, has worked for Freddy Fazbears' for the whole of 1,5 years now – probably has to do with the fact that she probably could cuss_ it _far away from this place. Also, she was very good at her other job, that is, cleaning up the disposed night guards, the boss paid her well.

Who knows, maybe _it_ has took a liking to her. After all, she does a good job at cleaning, both the commonplace and the more bloody messes.

"What'd he do?"

"Was sitting there, must have been sleeping on the job. He should fire that little bastard.."

Steps, shadows on the curtain. Someone's rumbling through the cleaning cabinet.

"..should set these bastards on fire.."

"Grizelda, are they all in their place?"

"Yeah, they're here, I'll check the one behind the curtains.."

Oh, Foxy's getting a visitor! She hasn't paid him a visit for a while! He quickly betters his posture to honor the guest. The curtain opens, and Foxy puts on his sweetest smile.

"Oh – FUCK YOU-"

A mop plummets towards Foxy, but it misses. The curtain swishes.

"What's wrong?"

"Motherfucker smiled at me!"

"That's what they do, Grittie.. just get out of there, they're not gonna do anything at this time.."

"Didn't you hear what they did to Peggy yesterday?" Grizelda screeches.

"Calm down, damnit. Didn't she go backstage? She's never been that bright."

"Motherfuckers.."

"Where's your mop? Did you throw it in-"

"Oh shut up, not getting it back! Let it clean this place for once.."

Foxy plays with the thought of throwing the mop back at her, but he'd be pushing his luck. The faster they're gone, the better.

A car engine starts outside. Sounds like Mike's car. Oh, Mike. Mike had offered what he had dreamt of for years. But there's no way he could take in all four of them. But he couldn't leave the others.. and they're done for. There's not much to be lost. As sad it made Foxy, there's no way to go on for them. But they're still there.

Sure, they could go.. for good. "Die." But with _it_, it won't happen. It won't let go. With Mike, it could happen.. Foxy could go for good, too. But that's not what he wants to do. That's what the future has seemed to be for Foxy up until now. No place to go. Then Mike comes into play..

What then, though? When they finally demolish this place, will _it_ go with it..? Or is it forced to find another place?

And how could he ever tell Mike what they really are? How would he react? Why has he let Mike to get involved this mess? Why would Foxy deserve anything better than this?

"Goddamn pizza stuck underneath a table! A _whole goddamn pizza_ stuck underneath the goddamn table!"

Grizelda's yelling snapped him out of his thoughts. None of this makes any sense. The thought of just running off with Mike is too tempting, but it's wrong. Every possible move now seems wrong.

"Look at this goddamn mess!"

Took the words out of Foxy's mouth.

The score of Mike's second night at Freddy Fazbear's: Almost got himself killed, saw the girl again, offered refuge for four animatronics, was kissed by an animatronic fox. Mike doesn't really want to contemplate what would come next. More kisses, less almost getting killed, perhaps?

Kisses from an animatronic fox. Mike was definetly suprised by the turn of events – he thought he would be the initiative party – but he was happy it turned that way. It wasn't just him harassing an animatronic creature.. or whatever he is. What Foxy had said before Mike left worried him slightly.

Whatever Foxy is, he sure is a sweetheart. Figures that the most lovely.. well, person, in Mike's life would be an animatronic from a childrens' pizzeria. He really needs to get Foxy out of there.

He started to slightly regret the offer to take them all in.. well, Foxy refused, so.. but it would be heartless to leave the others there. And what if it's not any outside force that makes them do the things they do? It would seem that's not the case, but one can never be too sure. But they would've have killed him off already. What if _it_ follows them?

Mike pulls out his old picture album from a cupboard. He never looks at old pictures of him. Knowing what kind of people on the other side of the camera are poisons every captured moment. But he knows there's ought to be some from Freddy Fazbear's. Mike quickly zips through the album. He should really just burn the thing. Just the glorified remains of a facade of an idyllic family life. Only at the very last page that has pictures, two pictures from Freddy Fazbear's. A picture of the main stage with the rabbit, bunny and the chicken, and one of Mike, wearing only the most garishly colored clothing only the 80's would allow. Only a glimpse of Foxy, his arm with the hook, could be seen. His beloved boat was visible, too. He had hoped to see Foxy in his original state, but oh well. He lifts the photo from the self-adhesive page and looks at the back of it.

"Mike – Oct 2 '87". Wasn't that the date behind Foxy's drawing? Well, that could be just a coincidence. It's a fun idea, though. And the last pictures of Mike as a child are from Freddy Fazbear's.. well, that doesn't seem much like a coincidence at all anymore.

Mike decides to show the photo to Foxy, he might like it. He throws the album at the back of the cupboard, closes the door – and falls on the floor.

It's the girl. Just standing on the doorway. He hits himself in the head, turns around, and sees she's still there. No, leave! Mike looks for something sharp on hand. A pencil. He stabs it to his thigh. No effect. Still there. 

"LEAVE!"

Mike throws a chair at her. Woosh, just goes through her. Mike turns his back towards her, closes his eyes and collapses on the floor.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Mike screams at the floor. He finds himself hyperventilating. His attention directs to this. He takes a few deep, long breaths. "Leave.. leave.." he whispers as he exhales. He's in control. No need to freak out. She'll be gone now, he'll just take his pills and..

He turns over and raises his eyes. She's still standing there, like Little Orphan Annie.

"Goddaammn!" Mike growls. He barely manages to resist the urge to hit himself in the head. Instead, he covers his face with his hands and tries to calm down. He'll just walk through her, go take a pill – or 20 – and wake up the next day. Or never. He slowly slides his hands off his face and looks at the girl.

She's no more than eight by the looks of it, clothed in faded jeans and a faded t-shirt, the original colors couldn't be seen anymore. Her white hair is long and tangled, and her skin like porcelain, with visible veins, looking like black cracks on the surface of an old teapot. The eyes pierced through Mike, accusing and cold. Almost like a porcelain doll, but there was something deeply grotesque and wrong in her.

Mike looks at her, trying to hide his horror. He doesn't ever remember seeing her in detail like this. He shakes his head in disbelief. Every time he lays his eyes off her, looking at her again startles him badly.

"Who are you?", Mike shouts at her. No response. "Who are you!?" Mike repeated. He wanted a reply, he wanted to see she couldn't, she wasn't real.

"I'm.."

Mike stands up in horror. She spoke.

"I'm.. i'm.. a"

"Why haven't you speaken before?!" Mike screeches at her, not really expecting – or wanting – a response.

"..You never let me."

"What?"

"Don't go back."

"..What?"

"Don't go back there."

"Why?"

"It's bad in there."

Mike looks at the girl. She has the most smug, saccharine smile on her face. So she does have something to do with the place?

"Do you know something?"

Her eyes bulge. She's clearly taken aback by the question.

"Did you know something?" Mike repeats.

She chortles, grins and turns away from Mike, and then she's gone.

Mike decides that a pill cocktail is in order.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: Sorry about the delays again, but I've very little time to write thanks to school and my health – the remaining chapters are pretty much completely planned out in my head and the following updates should come faster. :)

A click of the breaker echoes through the dining hall. The lights go out, the ambient hum dwindles. Hurried steps, the door slams shut. The cacophony of laughing and singing children still ring in Foxy's ears. He hadn't slept well. Not that it mattered much, but it did help to keep his thoughts in check.

He listens carefully. He has given a good scare to an employee or two when he hasn't been careful. Nothing. He opens the curtains and steps into the dining hall. The band is still standing there. It takes a while for them to realize there's no people present. He walks over to the main stage.

"Hi." Foxy tries. "How was your day?"

Bonnie opens his mouth. "Child..rennn."

"Yes, there was children in here today. Wasn't it nice?"

"Nice." Chica shrieks.

"Play nice." Freddy reminds them of their rules.

"Child-renn. Play." Bonnie continues his thought.

Foxy leans on the stage. He thinks how he should phrase himself. He doesn't know why, though.

"Maybe it's time to leave." Foxy says, slowly and clearly. He feels a lump in his throat. "Maybe it's time to leave for good."

The reaction, or the lack of it, was to be expected. They just stare. They just can't be approached. It's all Foxy's fault. He's a selfish piece of shit, telling them that they should be going. If anyone should be going, it's Foxy. They should've tied him into a knot and thrown him into the trash compactor behind the pizzeria.

But it's the only way. It's either that or a future of uncertainty. The boss has talked that the company might be disbanding. It'd be cruel to do anything else. But it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't deserve anything better than this.

He turns away from the stage and kicks a chair.

Mike's arrived. They're sitting in the office. He doesn't look too good.

"Haven't you slept well?", Foxy asks.

"Yeah, had a lot of things on my mind.. you, for example."

Oh, that smooth bastard. Reminded Foxy of which..

"So you met Grizelda? Wasn't she a lovely one? I don't think you are suprised to find that aside from the boss and one of the cooks, she's the longest serving employee here."

Mike laughs. "How does the staff treat you?" 

"Suprisingly well, considering the fact that I'm pretty much a lost case.. and the all the trouble I've caused. Well, it was _it_, but I should've stopped it. I could've prevented it from happening.."

"Foxy.. I don't know anything about what happened, but I don't think dwelling in the past does any good at this state.. sure, that's what I'm doing here.. but it happened. I'm not asking you to tell what it is, but I understand."

"But it happened! I could ignore it all I want to, but it still happened!" Foxy shouts.

"Well, I think that realizing your mistakes is much more important than moping about it." Mike says slowly. Foxy took that as a cue to calm down.

"You're right.. here I am again, bothering you with my problems. I'm sorry."

Mike grabs his hand. He'll never get used to that enough to not be suprised. "Is everything alright?"

Foxy collects his thoughts for a moment.

"I've just been thinking about that offer you made.. I think there's something we could try.. I uh.. I think it's no use trying to get them out of here. The boss won't miss me, but if their star attractions are suddenly gone overnight, the company will start searching for them. They can be helped, though. I need to think it through.."

"Whatever you want to do. I'm not leaving you here, at any rate."

"Even if I wanted to stay?"

"Nope. I'd put you on a leash and take you home."

"Well, there's no stopping you on this matter, is there?"

"No.. so stop moping around, silly." Mike puts his hands behind Foxy's head, pulls him forward and kisses him on the forehead. "Oh, I forgot to show you.." He stands up and walks over to his bag.

Just the fact that Mike had kissed _him _made Foxy feel a lot better. He had been worried he had gone a bit too far last night – but Mike's not a goody-goody.

Mike turns around, he's holding a picture, offering it to Foxy. Foxy reaches over to take a look at it, but something is wrong. He loses his vision for a millisecond. Oh damn. It's_ it_.

He hastily stands up, stumbles at his own feet, but manages to get out of the office.

"Close the door!", he manages to scream. Then everything went black.

–

Mike quickly pressed the button. Is it.._ it_? He turns around, closes the other door, and quickly goes back to the first door. He holds his ear to the door, if he could hear what's going on – then bang. The door shook.

Bang – again. And again. The door shaked from the impact.

Mike backs off from the door. No time to panic, he could open the other door and leave.. it's the girl. Standing there. Mike's hand swung up, but he took control of himself. She was smiling. She was delighted about the scene. Told you, shouldn't have come here, her appearance said.

We'll see. Mike looks back at her, slides his hand over to the door release button, and pushes it. Her eyes bulge. The door opens. Mike won't look, he's still staring at the girl.

The girl disappears. Mike turns around. Foxy's standing in the doorway, slowly letting his raised arms go down, staring the floor, almost hyperventilating.

"Why'd it take so long?", he manages to cough.

"It's her. She stops it."

"But why'd it take so long this time?"

"She's trying to scare me off."

"What?"

"She told me not to come back here."

"What are you talking about?"

"She makes _it_ stop, but she doesn't want me to come back here. I think she's holding off getting _it_ off of you."

"Well, she's a bitch, isn't she?" Foxy snaps.

Mike burst out laughing. Foxy put it better than he could have. He's relaxing now, chuckling a bit, with that coy smile of his.

Foxy steps towards Mike and grabs him.

"Don't you take me seriously, huh?"

Only now Mike noticed how much taller Foxy was. Mike's face was buried in his furry chest. Foxy starts to sway as if they were dancing. They step around the office.

"We could ask the band to play us a little something. Some tango, perhaps?" Foxy asks.

"When.. or where did you learn to dance?"

"Who said I did?" Foxy laughs. "Don't you underestimate what one can learn from late night television, though.."

"Do I want to know? Well, to be fair, I've wondered if you knew about_ that.. _I mean, why you would, you're an animatronic, but.."

"About what?"

"Well, _that_.."

"Oh my god, it's you should be the one put on the leash!"

They still sway around the office for a bit. Mike listens Foxy breathing. Well, "breathing". But it well could be.

"Sorry I got upset, I was scared that _it_ wouldn't go away for a moment."

"I thought so for a moment, too.."

"What if this stops working?"

"Then I'll just drag you forcibly out of here. But it won't stop working. I know it. Next time it happens, I'll try out something. She's not stupid. I think she's not. I hope so."

"What are you going to do with her, when.. or if.. we are out of here?"

Mike really hadn't thought of that. Actually, now that it might not be just a hallucination.. what can he do about her?

"I'll uh.. yeah. I guess I'll have to live with her?"

"Is that what you really want?"

It was not. But it felt best not to say it out loud. She might up the anti.

"I'll think about it. Oh, that picture I had.." Mike says, wanting to direct the discussion to something else. He looks around for it, finds it on the floor and picks it up.

"It's me, from October 2, 1987. Wasn't that the date behind the drawing?"

"Oh my god, it was. That's great.. and aww, isn't that an eyepatch you're holding? Huh, I forgot that we had them.. "

Foxy's face was shining.

"Oh, those were the days. I mean, sure, you were loud and messy.. and painful at times, but didn't we love you guys. We loved every day.. nights, not so much, but we didn't have night guards back then. Who knows what_ it_ made us do back then. Maybe it tried something that made the night guards necessary."

"What is _it_, exactly?"

Foxy's smile disappeared. He slowly sits on the office table.

"I_t_.. it did something bad many, many years ago. 15-20 years ago, I think. It died here, and.. it never left. Not quite. It stayed here, and it makes us do what it can't anymore."

Mike drops on his chair. What in the..?

"So.. it's a spirit.. or something?"

"Well, it's something like that. It's.. uh.. devolved. It's not dumb, but it just.. is. It wants to kill."

"Is it confined to this place?"

"I see what you mean by that.. I've thought of the same, and I don't know. I don't see why it would be, but then again, we are.. oh, nevermind.."

"What?"

Foxy's looking at the floor.

"Oh, just your everyday little existentialist crisis, nothing more", he says with a forced smirk. 

"You know, you're the most fluent animatronic fox I've ever met."

"I told you not to underestimate late night television!"

"It's me who's having an existentialist crisis here, I've been told that spirits exist! And it makes sense.. kind of."

"I.. think that's what the girl is."

"What?"

"I think that the girl is a spirit. If she makes _it _go away, she should be."

Mike let this sink in for a bit. That would explain why the pills never worked. And why she seemed to have effect in the "real world". Well, real and "real".

"So, what we need is an exorcist?"

Foxy laughs. "Maybe."

"Thanks for showing me that. I mean, all you see is my foot, but it's lovely to see at least something from the times when I existed. I know, I am a sentimental bastard, those were good times. The most normal life we could have.. well, until I met you. It's been some interesting few days."

"It has. And I've completely fallen for you in that time."

"And I've fallen for you. I could say I've gotten.. hooked."

"Oh my god, you're the worst. What is living with the hook like, by the way?"

"It used to be a pain, but I've gotten used to it. It's a sharp son of a bitch, though. It used to have a rounded tip, but it cracked off once when I fell. I actually put a styrofoam ball at the tip of it for the night so I don't tear myself even further apart when I'm sleeping."

Mike chuckles.

"I'm not kidding! I should put it whenever I'm around you to be sure. Gotta use.. _protection_."

"Oh my god! Where have you learnt all of- well, I guess you answered that already.."

Foxy cackles. He's inspecting is hook, going through the dents and imperfections.

"I'd fix me up myself, but they've thrown all of my supplies away when I was erased from the brand.. and we are the last operating restaurant anyway. One of a kind, I am."

"You certainly are."

"Sometimes I think I could've had a normal life, but you know, this is not too bad? I take this over.. well.. whatever."

Mike looked at the fox sitting on the office table. He was looking at the floor again. Poor thing. They're both in very similar situations. Stuck in the past. Stuck to this goddamn pizzeria.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Just thinking. About life. And stuffs."

"Well, what are you thinking? I don't know a whole lot about you. Why are you here? Well, aside from her?"

"When you've been thrown out of home and you've dropped out of high school, you just have to do whatever pays the bills.. but mostly I'm here because of her. And you."

Foxy sprung up, stepped up to Mike, falls on his knees, throws his arm around Mike and holds him tight. He's so tall that his face is almost at the level of Mike's, even on his knees.

"What is it _now_?"

"I don't know what I've done to deserve to even know you."

Foxy's reading a newspaper Mike brought him, lying on his stomach on the floor. Mike's standing in Foxy's "bedroom" – the control booth - going through the dusty control panel. There's switches and little joysticks for the movement, labeled for their respective moving parts. Controller for "Right arm" had a hastily added little note taped next to it: "HOOK!"

He looks over to the stage. Two holes could be seen where Foxy's legs would've been. There's clearly places for bolts. Pipes and electric wires came out of the holes. They looked like they had been ripped off from whatever they had been attached to.

Mike notices a drawer underneath the control panel. It comes off with some effort – within was a dusty old notebook, labeled "FOXY MANUAL"

"**FOXY**

Foxy the Pizza Pirate! He tries his best to steal all the pizza, but Freddy and his friends always outwit him and save the day.

Foxy's an interactive character. The performer speaks to the microphone and controls the movement. Preset songs and scenes can be programmed aswell. When using a combination of live performance and preset songs, special care should be taken in casting a voice fitting the premade Foxy songs.

A video cassette explaining the functions of the Foxy puppet is available from Freddy Fazbear Inc for employee training.

Be careful with the hook!"

Mike glances around the booth. On the wall is a calendar – from the year 1982. Huh. He cannot have been out of order for so long, as he was still in use when Mike was here as a child. Maybe it didn't mean anything. Just an old calendar left hanging in there. Still curious, though.

Foxy reads very intensely, Mike noticed. He goes through every word, often repeating sentences and quietly mouthing phrases, it seems. Like a pianist sight reading sheet music and hearing the music out loud in his head. He would occasionally ask Mike the meaning of some words and background for some controversial news.

"I'll never get all this talk about politics.. is it really as boring as it sounds?"

"I'd say so."

Mike checks his watch. Soon six PM.

"Do you have to leave soon?" Foxy asks, not having even glanced off the paper.

"Yeah."

Foxy smiles. "I really hate to see you go."

"I really hate to leave you here."

"You could stay. Sneak some pizza from the kitchen and spend your day with me."

"You know that I would. It'd be an quite a situation they found me here, though."

"Yes, best not." Foxy laughs.

"Do any of the employees know?"

"Know what?"

"About you and the others?"

"Ooh.. Christ, no. Well, they know that we are a bit quirky and staying here after midnight is not a good idea, but that's all they know. We do.. or they do their routines without having to be programmed to, and they think it's a glitch. It's for the better, of course."

The alarm rings. Mike and Foxy both stumble up.

"Not going to meet Grizelda again, I hope you don't mind." Mike says and laughs.

Foxy grabs Mike and kisses him on his forehead.

"Thanks for the night, sweetie."

That struck with Mike more than anything that had happened during the night. He could feel the tingling well after they had parted. Sweetie.. it was like they were a couple. Well, weren't they?

"Thank you.. love you". He steps out of the cove and glances back at Foxy. It's such a sad sight, him behind the curtains, alone. Foxy waves him goodbye and Mike lets the curtains swing down.

Outside, the cleaner's van pulls just in time to the parking lot as Mike's stepping into his car. Grizelda's driving. She honks and gives Mike the finger, seemingly shouting at him. Profanities, most likely. He found himself quite worried over Foxy. He was just a puppet for the others. He could well find him in a trash can tomorrow night when he comes back. Well, if Foxy had managed so far, maybe a few more days will go with ease. It just felt like they were upsetting a certain natural order of things, and something somewhere is bound to go wrong, and badly.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The whole affair seems like a setup for a sitcom.

My name is Mike Schmidt. I work in a pizzeria as a night guard. With spirits. And occasional killings. And cleaners with anger management issues. And living animatronics. My partner being one of the said animatronics.

Mike shakes his head, cranks the car, and drives off.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: Sorry about the delays, again – I have a lot written down, but I can be a bit of a perfectionist at times.. Next two chapters are pretty much done, so they should come out on a faster pace. This time. I promise. ;)

Mike arrived home. He switches on the lights. The brightness blinded him for a second, his eyes demanded sleep, and with the past 6 hours at the dim pizzeria.. He could use an eye patch too. Didn't pirates use it for that? The other eye being used to the darkness, it could see in the dark deck immediately when the patch was removed, saving time..

Foxy probably had no use for such a thing, sitting in the dark all day. Mike sighs. It's unbearable to know that he's there, waiting for Mike to come. Mike was the last person anyone should put their hopes on, yet here they are.

Oh, Foxy. Mike was still tingling. "Sweetie", he repeated to himself, smiling.

He realized that he was on a good mood. A very good mood. He might even clean up a bit before going to bed. Some futile attempts to bring some order to the chaos.

He couldn't admit to himself that he did it mostly in case Foxy would come home with him soon. He started plowing through his mountain of laundry which has formed in the corner of his bedroom. A bloody t-shirt from his first night at work is at the top. It has stained all the other laundry below.

"Damn.."

"Why did you go back there?" a voice echoed from somewhere.

Mike pretended not to have heard. Maybe she'll go away. Please, don't ruin my day now.

"Why did you go back there?" it repeated.

Still ignoring her.

"You can hear me."

"I want to know what happened." Mike said slowly.

"Why?"

Mike turned around. There she was, standing. She looked worse than before. The veins looked like spiderwebs on her skin. Her hair was frizzy and even more tangled.

"So I can.. go on."

"What are you going to do?"

"I just want Foxy out of there."

"Nothing else?"

Yes, there is. I want to get rid of you.

"No."

"Do you want to know what happened? Do you want to know what Foxy did?"

"W-what does Foxy have to do with anything? And how do you know?"

"Foxy did it. I saw it."

"What?"

"I can show you. I was there."

"Show.. how.. what?"

She reached out her hand. Mike hesisted, but grabbed it. It was a deeply unpleasant experience. Where her hand touched Mike could feel pins and needles. He expected her to pull him forward, but she pulled himself very close to him. The pins and needles spread from his hands to all over his body.

Mike could feel his consciousness slipping. He thought he would faint.

He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. He bat his eyes to make them focus, with no avail. Organ music reminescent of a fairground could be heard. It was a familiar tune. It was Freddy Fazbear's.

"What did you do?"

"Memory." She said nonchalantly. Indeed, it was. Everything was slightly shifting around. But it was recognizeable. A slightly less run down Freddy Fazbear's. They were in the hallway, left to the office. The animatronics could be seen at the back. While the crowd inside was blurry and vague, the animatronics, balloons snd decorations were clear and vivid. Another crowd was in front of the doorway to the hallway. Right in front of Foxy's little stage. Mike looked at the girl, horrified.

"How'd you do this?"

"It's a.. visit to my mind. If I can visit yours, you can visit mine."

"Oh.."

She took off running to the dining hall. Mike followed. He tried to look through the office window, but there was nothing there. He continued his way to the hall. He could walk through the cloud of dark human shapes.

There he is. Foxy. There he was standing. Very vague pirate talk could be heard. Without knowing what he was doing, it would seem he was doing stand-up for the crowd of children. He was on a good shape. No holes, no exposed animatronic devices. His little pirate ship is still intact. The background is decorated with a seaside view, with plastic palm trees framing the stage.

Mike looked at the corner of the stage, the control booth, where Foxy's bedroom would be nowadays. The curtain is open. No-one-there. Didn't the girl just remember, or..?

Then he appeared. Mike could tell who it was, instantly. It was him. Little Mikey. Smiling, wearing an eye patch. The only discrenible person from the cloud of people. It made Mike very uncomfrotable. Something tells him that this won't end good.

"Hey.. I don't like this.." He turns around. The girl is gone.

Foxy's "skit" continues. He points at the crowd. Little Mikey rises on the stage.

"I want out, I don't want to see!" Mike shouted. He tried to run to the hallway. The wasn'r there anymore. He stayed staring at the wall. The room started to rotate beneath his feet. He would have to see it.

"No, let me go!", Mike screamed, closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. It did nothing. He was still seeing and hearing everything, and wherever he turned his head, the scene would follow it. It was a nightmare – except at this point, he would've waken up.

Little Mikey was standing on the stage. Foxy's indecipherable pirate talk got louder. And louder. And louder. It started to crackle, as if the feed had overload. Foxy was twitching. He was stumbling back. He tried to wave Mike off. The eyes lit up.. but it wasn't like he had seen them lit up. It was different.

Mike couldn't do anything but watch. He knew what would come next.

"Foxy" stepped forward. His teeth sank into Mikey's head. Mikey collapsed. Blood. The memory itself started to blink. Mike looked at his body. It looked as good as dead. But then the eyes blinked for a second. As if they were glowing.

Foxy collapsed backstage. Blood was all over him, pouring through his teeth to his arms and chest. A scream. It echoed in Mike's head and was constantly cut of by the blinking memory. The cloudy crowd dissipates, and the blinks increase in frequency, until there's only darkness.

He wakes up in his living room.

"You're lying!" Mike screams, gasping for breath. He stumbles up. "It didn't happen!"

"Yes, it did. You know it."

And he did. But he didn't want to.

"Why did you make me get through that?! You.. you bitch!"

The girl smirked. She was delighted.

"You wanted to see. I showed you."

Mike thought he could feel the scar hurting. It all made sense. The scar, the strange flashbacks about the place.. but the girl? Where does the girl come to play?

"Well - where did you come from?!"

The girl's smile vanished. Her eyes bulged, like they always did when Mike asked an uncomfortable question.

"I.. I.."

"Say it!"

She disappeared into the thin air.

Mike felt guilty. As if it was him who ruined everything. If he hadn't gone on that stage, nothing would've happened. But it was _it_, it's the one responsible! It had to be!

How could he ever tell Foxy? How could he not tell him? It's best not. Just pretend nothing has happened. Fish out what he thinks happened to the kid, "investigate" it, and tell him that the kid was okay. No, Foxy would see right through that. No, he won't say a word.

Or did it happen at all? Was it a lie? Mike checks the time. The library would open in a few hours.

"Hi, uh, do you have an archive for newspapers?"

"Yes, we do, but they're only open for research purposes."

"Umm, what if there's an urgency?"

"What kind of urgency?"

"Medical.. kind of urgency."

The librarian gave Mike an questioning look. He lifts of his cap and parts his hair out of the way of the scar. The librarian's stare turns the slightest bit pitiful. She hands him a key.

"The last door in that hallway over there. If someone asks, I wasn't the one who let you in."

"Thank you. Thanks a lot.". Mike throws the cap on and heads toward the hallway.

Greenville Times.. 1985.. 1986.. That's it. 1987. January.. April.. July.. October.. sometime after October 2nd. Unless his parents did indeed develop pictures taken of him in the day of the accident, but that was unlikely. Even from them.

What'd be the next probable day..? October 2nd was a birthday of someone, he remembers that.. how about Mike's?

November.. December. December 1.. 10.. 11. That would be Friday, so his birthday, the 12th, is on Saturday. The news would be in the Monday's issue, the 14th. He lifts the newspaper from the file.

"Bangaldesh frees opposition.. Soviet Union.. Reagan.." God, was it this long ago?

"Accident at a local pizzeria – children severely injured."

Uh oh.

"A child was seriously injured on Saturday at Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria. According to eyewitnesses, an animatronic character malfunctioned and injured a child. The child suffered severe damages to the head. The child is in critical condition as of Sunday evening. Three other children got minor injuries during the resulting panic.

Ida Cotton, the CEO of the company, released a statement: 'We at Freddy Fazbear's take the safety of our guests very seriously and we apologize for everyone involved with the situation. Initial investigation of the events show that the restaurant used the animatronic characters in a manner not approved by the manufacturer or Freddy Fazbear Inc. We are looking whether a contractual breach has been made, and if necessary, legal action will be taken.'

The resulting panic made the arrival of medical rescue difficult. Greenwell Police Department would like to remind parents to remain calm in all events of emergency.

The restaurant in question has been a subject to controversy before. Five years ago, six bodies were found within the establishment, including the suspected murderer."

He'll never tell Foxy. He'll never ask anything. Live with the girl, take Foxy away and quit as soon he gets his first paycheck. Now he knows what happened. No use digging deeper.

Mike doesn't want to know. He looks around, rips the page off carefully, folds it neatly and puts it on his pocket.

He rushes back home. He fumbles his keys, opens his door, and struts in, almost waiting for the girl to be there, while she probably was with him the entire time. The knowledge of that started to make him anxious. She's seen everything. Past 15 years, she's been there.

He jumps on his bed, exhausted. With some effort, he manages to pry out the paper out of his pocket. He holds it over his eyes, skimming the text. It seems unreal to think that those words on that paper have anything to do with him.

It becomes unbearable. He starts ripping it into pieces. No-one needs to know. Not Foxy, or anybody else.

"Thank you!" Mike screams. How he wishes she was here.

"Thank you! I'm glad! Thanks for showing me!" he cackles. He knew those words – even though they were lies – were the last things she wanted to hear. Maybe she knew they were lies, who knows. Mike doesn't care anymore.

How in the hell is he going to show his face at the pizzeria tonight? Pretending things were okay, that nothing had happened?

They're stuck. All kinds of stuck. It won't be easy getting out of this. If they ever will.


End file.
